GONE FISHING
Gone to hear the red winged Black Bird song.
I will stay to hear the tree frog choir.
When twilight sets the sky on fire.
EAGLE
You love these hills I know you do.
You love the gentle breezes that uplift you.
When you are up there circling around.
Surveying your sacred ground.
I am up there with you as copilot.
Riding on your wings at twilight.
On those wings the world is your oyster.
Yet to these hills you choose to cloister.
Not a sacrifice, not a place to hide.
Just a perfect place to glide.